Smithers and Zhie sat around the conference room table with
three piles of applications in front of them and a number of half
eaten cartons of Chinese food surrounding the piles. The first group
was the absolutely not pile, which was going to be used for scrap
paper later on. The second was the possibly maybes – no experience,
but not untrainable. The third group, claimed to have experience,
but the question remained as to whether the experiences were good,
bad, or ugly.
"Set up the appointments with all the experienced people
first. That way, if I find someone in that bunch, I can hire them
right away. Schedule the others after the first batch in case none
of the experienced ones work out." Zhie instructed, handing the two
piles to Smithers. "Burn these." She added, pointing to the last
group.
Luna appeared at the doorway suddenly. "Doctor, there's a
call for you on your private line."
"Thank you, Luna." Dr. Zhie excused herself for a moment and
walked down to her office, shutting her door behind her.
Smithers set the piles down on the table. "I think I'll
relieve myself for a moment while she's gone." He said, managing to
make his way out of the room without getting within ten feet of the
troll.
Luna walked around the table, surveying the piles of papers.
The two that had been nearest to Smithers seemed normal enough, but
the third from the center of the table contained some of the most
laughable job histories ever. She kept her laughing muffled until
she heard the door open from the office. Hurridly, Luna placed two
piles near Smithers' seat and one in the middle, heading out the door
as Zhie came back through. "Where's Waylon?" asked the doctor,
looking around the room.
"Sorry about that." Came the voice of her assistant as he
entered back into the room. He scooped up the stacks near his seat
and placed them in his briefcase, then tossed the others from the
center into the shredding bin. "I think I'd better get started on
this project, or I'll be calling people much too late in the
evening."
"Good idea." Agreed the doctor. "Fax me the schedule when
you have it done. I'm just going to go to the ATB to crash, too late
to trek all the way back home. If you need me, that's where I'll be."
Smithers nodded and headed out the door.
* * *
Dr. Zhie punched her code into the panel on the back door to
the ATB, pushing the door open when it gave the cheerful chirp
signaling that it was alright to proceed. The lighting in the
hallway was dimmer than usual, and she noted that some of the
tapestries weren't hanging in their usual places. They weren't
actually hanging at all, in fact, they were heaped upon the floor in
a shredded pile. Where they had been, various messages were sprayed
in the most unattractive colors.
Continuing through, she made it to the main hall, where
ThunderWolf was discussing some matters of importance with RD, who
was pointing furiously at different places in the room where paint
was splattered and cushions ripped up.
"Hi guys. Did I miss an attack or an orgy?" she asked,
kicking a pair of downed striped curtains from her path.
Neither one said anything for a moment, until a thought
jogged ThunderWolf's memory, and he suddenly advised, "Don't go to
your room."
"You mean that lounge I sort of took over?" Zhie hoisted her
tote bag up on her shoulder. "Why not? Did you redecorate again,
RD?"
"I had nothing to do with it this time." The undictator said,
throwing his hands in the air. "My beautiful base, destroyed – no,
raped! – by those bastards!" RD continued to bad mouth `those
bastards', which Zhie assumed must have been Team Tiger, as she
headed in the direction of the room anyhow.
"I strongly suggest you crash somewhere else! Perhaps we
could make room in mine or Shark's quarters?"
Zhie rolled her eyes. "I give you credit for trying, lion,
but nothing could be that bad."
ThunderWolf grinned. "Suit yourself."
The doctor continued to the room, finding herself hesitate
before pushing the door open. "So much for crashing." She said
disappointedly, tossing her bag into what had once been her couch.
It was now covered in puke green spray paint, ripped open, and
accented with some sort of red highlights. To match, someone had
declared `Rini Dangerfield Rivero' on the back wall, which was, to
the doctor's knowledge, not RD's real name. His real name, though
the most guarded secret, appeared on all of his medical records, and
wasn't as interesting as `Rini Dangerfield'.
The rest of the room wasn't too bad, it did look as if a
scuffle had taken place there, but nothing that couldn't be put back
into place. The room would need repainting, and the couch would have
to go. All in all, it wasn't a total loss – the couch was getting a
bit thread bare, and sunk to the ground in the middle. She'd
probably been done a favor.
Deciding things could have been worse, Zhie pulled a chair up
to her computer and flipped the switch. Instead of the familiar
sound of the machine booting up, she heard nothing. Zhie checked all
of the cables, figuring that one of them might have been loose from
the ruckus, but it didn't help the situation. From there, she
jiggled the cords, jiggled the machine, kicked the machine, and
finally slumped down on the keyboard.
At that moment, RD appeared in the doorway. "Though most
technology responds to violence, as you well know," he said with a
smirk, "you just can't teach a computer to swim."
"Those bastards." Came Zhie's voice, muffled by the fact she
was talking into the keyboard.
"See? You agree with me about those rebel scum. Come to the
dark side, Zhie…you'd be a powerful ally." RD said in his most
persuasive voice he could muster.
"Knock it off, RD. I'm a doctor, I have to remain neutral."
Zhie reminded him.
RD lowered his voice. "But I can tell, much anger in you
there is. Think of how powerful the dark side of the force is, mmm?"
"Do evil undictators swim well?" Zhie mused out loud.
"Breakfast is at seven. See you in the morning!" RD said,
heading down the hall.
* * *
Smithers frowned as he sifted through the applications he had
pulled out of his briefcase. He'd thought that Zhie had been careful
not to consider anyone who would cause the same sort of grief that
Lion-o had, but from the looks of the applications she'd kept, he was
beginning to wonder if Zhie was some sort of masochist. "As if there
were ever a doubt…" he sighed, dialing the number on the first
application.
To Be Continued...